Unbound
by suppressed-ambitions
Summary: As Azula follows her brother into high school, she learns that private tutoring and political training will get her nowhere in the world of juvenescence. Modern AU. TyZula. Rating subject to change.
1. Very Real and Fleshy Anatomy

She's not one to miscalculate.

_Do you shift gears and then reverse?_

She's characterized by careful, deliberate planning and prodigiously accurate calculations.

_No, no, you have to be in drive before you can shift gears..._

No, Azula doesn't make mistakes.

_Actually, it might be a good idea to turn on the car first. _

And she is not going to be bested by a second-rate vehicular contraption.

Azula grits her teeth.

For all her academic and extracurricular accomplishments, it's fallible Zuko that gets to drive a Mercedes. Azula drives a ten-year-old Sonata. "Crash-proof," her mother had reasoned.

Excellence in achievement means little in the world of driving. And communality. And all things social and teenager-like.

Azula doesn't need Zuko to drive to the mall.

She has a license.

(It only took her four attempts.)

She doesn't need Zuko to buy new shoes.

She doesn't need Zuko to make new friends.

She is perfectly capable of handling herself in a social situation.

* * *

This is stupid.

She should be memorizing SAT vocabulary–why is she wasting a perfectly good Saturday at Payless? _Why _is she at _Payless_ when she can easily procure three racks of shoes from Gucci?

"_Sokka, Mai, and I are going to the mall tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?"_

No, she didn't want to. She was busy.

_"Busy? Doing what–studying? C'mon, Azula. I'm starting to think that you're incapable of having fun…"_

She was perfectly capable of having "fun." In fact, she had plans at the mall tomorrow herself.

_"Really? With who?"_

With her sophomore friends that Zuko hadn't met.

_"You mean the ones that don't exist?"_

They did too exist, with very real and fleshy anatomy.

_"…Uh, okay. Why don't you and your very real and fleshy anatomies meet up with us for lunch?"_

They would.

And now Azula has to find some very real and fleshy anatomies to eat lunch with.

Which is why she's at Payless.

To meet very real and fleshy anatomies.

To eat lunch with.

Girls like shoes, right?

_What am I doing here?_ _Why don't I just call in some favors with Councilman Jiang's daughters? He has seven to spare…_

No, that wouldn't work. Zuko had met them all. Besides, most of them attend out-of-state colleges or are already employed.

_Confound it! How does one go about establishing nonpolitical alliances? Ugh. Father's right, there's nothing to gain from these sort of connections…Now what would Mother advise? She always said something…What was it? Shoes are a female's most formidable weapon?_

Azula's scheming is interrupted by a wail that's too strident to be humanly possible.

She turns to glower at the perpetrator–a mousy-haired beast with weapons of mass destruction for limbs. His whale of a mother isn't nearly as adept at consoling him as her son is in the art of devilment.

From her observation of the masses, Azula has deduced that common people are imprudent, worthless beings that serve no purpose but to be manipulated. Especially children.

She continues glaring at the pair from her bench even after they've left the store.

"Are you finding everything okay? Is there anything I can help you with?"

Shop assistants are stupid. And perverse. And intrusive. With their faux courtesy and mechanical, rehearsed lines.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," Azula hisses.

If the employee possessed an ounce of sagacity, she would've caught the implication.

But the stupid clerk doesn't seem to understand, blinking her big, stupid eyes, smiling widely with her stupid mouth.

"Are you sure? You've been sitting here for a while," she continues brightly in an abominably sweet voice.

Azula pauses to study the girl.

Round, mild features; petite build; a snub nose; traces of baby fat; a wide, delicate mouth; fluttery eyelashes framing large taupe eyes. Very real and fleshy anatomy.

She can't be much older than Azula.

"Actually, there is something I need help with."

"Okay! How can I help?"

"Well, you see, I need new shoes. That are similar to the ones I'm wearing. But, um, different. Because having shoe variety is…uh…_cool. _And it's fashionable. Yes. I want to be fashionable. So, I'm looking for cool and fashionable shoes."

The ends of the employee's beam start to wither a little.

"Oh, um, okay. Well, I'll see what we–_oh my god are those Jimmy Choo?_" she gushes. Azula smirks; commoners are too easily impressed. The girl's eyes are still glittering with awe as she mumbles, "I don't think we carry anything like those…"

_ Of course you don't, imbecile. _

"Oh, that's quite all right. Just show me whatever you have. We can bond over this group activity then go for some sustenance," Azula replies slickly, gazing at the girl through half-lidded eyes.

The girl stares at her critically, eyebrows pinched together and mouth curled to the side.

Azula blushes. She's certain she did everything correctly. What more could there be to this social interface business?

"Oh, I, uh, would love to–but I...don't…get off work until three," the girl finally responds with a hesitant laugh.

She looks something like a cornered animal.

Azula processes her options for a moment before her eyes harden with resolve.

"Take me to your superior," she commands.

The girl's eyes widen.

"What?"

"I can pay them off with twice the store's monthly revenue if you come with me."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Of course not," Azula scoffs. She taps her chin thoughtfully as she glances around the store. "How much does this establishment make, anyway? I bet it wouldn't take much to pay off." She glimpses at the girl from the corner of her eyes. "What about you? Do I have to pay you off?"

"_Excuse me?_"

"I just need you to accompany me to lunch. Well, you also have to act amiably towards me, but your company is the important part. How much would that be? Four-hundred? Five-hundred? I'm not willing to go past–"

"–Look, you're crazy." This time Azula's eyes widen. "What the hell is wrong with you? You can't just waltz in here with your Bank of America allowance and try to buy out a girl you just met for some lunch date! That's not how this works!"

The girl is positively seething at this point, and if Azula was even slightly sensitive, she might've noticed the affronted look on the other girl's face.

"It's…not?"

The first fourteen years of Azula's life had been sculpted by governesses; she had been brought into her father's inner-most circle in preparation for the political legacy she would inherit. And as a result of private tutoring for over a decade, Azula's social circle doesn't extend beyond Zuko and his girlfriend, Mai.

And she's quickly learning that political maneuvers aren't very successful in day-to-day exchanges.

"Azula?"

_Have mercy. _

Zuko, Mai, and their less significant friend are just outside the store; they're all appropriately stunned. Zuko's eyes flit between his sister and the fuming employee suspiciously.

"Is this one of your very real and fleshy anatomies?"

Mortification is a very strange sensation. It's the prickling of blood flushing underneath her skin and her insides shriveling into dust. It's not a common color on Azula–and as the foreign sensation sweeps over her, she finds that she doesn't wear it well.

* * *

Normally, Azula wouldn't be intimidated in the slightest. Her brother is the black sheep of their household; the duller dao of the two. He's naive, idealistic, and easily manipulated–predictable in all the ways she isn't. Azula's favorite tools of manipulation are composed of Zuko's temper and excessive sentimentality.

But somehow, he had finally gained leverage over her, and the image of his gaze gleaming with unprecedented superiority haunts her. He's carefully calculating, trying to find a way to exploit this newfound weakness. It's in the slightest twitch of his eyebrows, the subtlest smirk playing at his lips.

Still, Zuko isn't cruel.

He wouldn't use this advantage maliciously–for self-defense, at best, and mischievously, at worst. In fact, there's a glimmer of sympathy in Zuko's eyes as he steals a glance at her.

This only exacerbates her distress.

"Ugh."

Thin lips edge up into a full-blown smirk. Despite Zuko's laughable empathy, he enjoys tormenting his sister just as much as she takes delight in repaying the favor.

It feels like the entire car has slowed down (and it probably has) just so that Azula can truly experience the weight of her brother's ridicule.

"_So._ What are you going to say to her when you see her at school? I heard she's in your grade, y'know."

Azula's jaw clenches.

Being bested was already a considerable offense, but by _Zuko_?

"Well?"

She refuses to reward her brother with the full satisfaction of seeing her squirm.

"Are you going to talk to her in front of the very real cheer squad or in front of the very fleshy hockey team?"

The remark strikes a chord within Azula and she hisses.

Zuko doesn't share Azula's social ineptitude.

After being cast out of his father's favor, Zuko had joined the hockey team and made a name for himself as the most aggressive player. He isn't necessarily popular, but he has a wide range of acquaintances and little to fear from social situations.

What Azula would give to scrape the smugness off of her brother's face.

Preferably with a windshield wiper.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, I haven't thought of anything yet. But I'll be sure to inform you when I require your assistance, _baby sis_."

It's every bit of self-discipline Azula has cultivated over the years that keeps her from directing Zuko's Mercedes into a nearby pole.

* * *

"So remind me, Soccer–"

"–_Sokka!_"

"–Whatever–how you got into this school, again?" Azula drawls as she probes at the cafeteria lunch.

It's first-rate, of course. Fresh produce, choice cut meat. Everything to be expected of Four Republics Academy.

It's easily the most prestigious private institution in the state, with admittance limited to four general groups: the wealthy, the well-connected, the exceptionally talented, and the scholars.

Azula is having difficulty placing her brother's simpleton into one of these categories.

"I've told you like a hundred times! I got a scholarship to the Engineering Program here!" the simpleton whines.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you did, Soccer," Azula concedes in a placating tone.

She smirks as the gangly boy's face twists in indignation.

_He'd hardly survive as a soccer player. _

Zuko's muscular frame fills into the crimson blazer quite befittingly, and he almost looks handsome with his narrow face and defined features. Even dour Mai looks elegant in the faded burgundy vest and plaid skirt. There are visible creases and folds in the uniform that Sokka's wiry physique fails to fill.

A sigh.

"_Azula."_

That would be her dear older brother.

"Oh, relax, Zuzu. I'm only having fun," Azula insists as she flicks a Brussels sprout at Sokka.

"There's no need to make Sokka feel insecure. He comes from a very talented family," Zuko continues, as though he hadn't heard his sister.

"I know. His sister is the best of my Physiology class." She casts a disappointed glance at Sokka. "Shame her brother doesn't share his sister's talents."

Mai snickers into hand as Sokka fixes her with a wounded look.

Zuko groans. "Mai! Don't encourage her!"

"Sorry," the dark girl retorts without a trace of apology in her voice.

Sokka's scowl is replaced with a grin when he catches sight of something behind Azula. She glances over her shoulder to see what the simpleton is so thrilled about. A slight boy with a pretty girl on his arm waves back enthusiastically.

"Zuzu, remind me why you eat lunch with a _freshman_ as a _senior_?"

Mai arches an eyebrow at this.

"We ate lunch with you last year when you were a freshman," she points out dully.

Azula glowers at her, slightly unnerved when the dark girl remains unfazed.

To all other than Zuko, Mai is an enigma. Azula can't place her alliances, or her motives, or her incentives. She's too brilliant for Azula's liking and, as the governor's daughter, a potential threat.

Zuko frowns. "Aang is my best friend."

"So you've told me. Refresh my memory on how the little runt got into this school?"

"I'm pretty sure Aang has more volunteer hours than anyone else in the country. The kid spends more time volunteering than anything else. He's been to so many third-world countries to help build schools and stuff–colleges have been hounding him since middle school," Sokka supplies with an air of reverence.

Azula makes a mental note of this before her lip curls. "I wasn't asking _you._"

"Azula, be nice." _And the gallant older brother returns. _"He doesn't have to put up with this, you know. You should be grateful that my friends are willing to let you sit with us."

Azula is seized by the desire to smash her tray against Sokka's triumphant face.

"I can find my own friends to sit with," she grumbles petulantly.

Zuko grins. "Oh, I'm sure you can. Look! There's one of your very real and fleshy anatomies right now."

And to Azula's horror, he points at a table not too far from theirs, where the stupid shop assistant is in a stupid crimson uniform, gleefully gossiping away with her friends.

"Hey guys!" Aang greets cheerfully, taking the empty seat next to Azula without hesitation.

His girlfriend sits down on the other side of him with a little more caution.

"She's not that bad looking, now that I really look at her," Sokka comments as he follows Zuko's finger. "Oh my _god. _Are all her friends that attractive?"

"They're cheerleaders, Sokka. I'm pretty sure they're not into horny robotics nerds," Katara chides as she rolls her eyes.

"Why do we even _have _cheerleaders?" Mai carps.

The banter at their table fades into a buzz as Azula is hit with the full impact of her mortification. Big, stupid eyes glance up for a moment to meet hers, and suddenly Azula is the worthless commoner.

* * *

**A/N: For as much as I enjoyed writing something light-hearted like this, I'm worried it won't be as well received…**


	2. The Concept of Liberty and Individuality

"You look nice."

Azula pauses to meet her brother's eyes in the mirror.

"What are you plotting?"

Zuko grins.

"Nothing yet." He falls back on Azula's bed as he grumbles, "Would it kill Dad to hold off on all the family activities? We've had like nine dinners this week. It's his fault I have a D in Calculus."

Ozai and Ursa had returned from Washington D.C. less than a few hours ago, and are preparing for a dinner party at the manor the very night.

Clearly their offspring bear the brunt of Ozai's career.

"There are seven days in a week, genius. Besides, even if we had time to do our homework, it's not like you'd actually do it." Azula raises her eyes to glare at her brother. "And get off my bed."

"But I'm enjoying rubbing my very real and fleshy anatomy all over it _so much_."

"Oh,_ for the love of Satan!_ It's been a week–give it a rest already!"

"Did you just use the devil's name in vain? Azula, that's rude."

Azula exhales deeply.

It had been an excruciating ten-thousand-eighty minutes of Zuko's scorn. Never has she had to tolerate such derision on her brother's part. Somehow, it seems that the sixteen years of misery she had wrought on him had finally come back to haunt her.

Still, Zuko doesn't possess Azula's cunning or composure.

In an even voice, she retorts, "Speaking of conduct, you'd better be on your best behavior, Big Brother. Heavens forbid Mother has to clean up another mess of yours before Father finds out."

Zuko doesn't falter.

"Aw, are you getting nervous about being alone at a party?"

Azula scoffs. "_Please_, Zuzu. Political gatherings are the bane of my existence. You're the one that's stuck with your emo girlfriend," she smirks, pleased to finally have gained some leverage.

For all the effect this has on her brother, Azula may have been discussing the weather.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Zuko concedes lightly, suddenly enraptured by the nails on his left hand.

Azula's eyes narrow.

She sets her brush down as she turns to face her brother.

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Zuko's eyes widen innocently. "Why would you assume that?"

Azula grits her teeth. She's losing her patience with all of this foreplay.

"Listen, you little cheat–_I know you._ You blow up at the slightest things, yet you've been complacent and benevolent all week. I know you're up to something." She storms across the room and thrusts a finger in her brother's face. "And don't you _dare _think for a second you can win, meathead–with your mediocre grades and daddy issues."

To Azula's utter shock (and dismay), Zuko isn't even slightly fazed.

He raises an eyebrow in amusement. "That's a lot of mean things to be saying to your older brother. I mean, I complimented you. Don't I get one in return?"

Azula clenches her fists.

"You don't look half as horrible as usual, you twat," she spits before stomping back to the vanity.

Zuko had cleaned up rather nicely for the occasion. He's dressed in a burgundy blazer, baby blue dress shirt, steel blue tie, charcoal slacks, and black dress shoes. Even his usually unruly hair is tame, parted to the right and styled with gel.

"Nice hair," she adds with a sneer.

This finally incites a reaction.

Zuko rolls his eyes. "Mom did it. But I was being serious. You do look nice, Azula."

Azula had spent the better part of three hours priming in front of the vanity.

Brunette hair is pulled back into an ornate bun settled just below her right ear; already clear skin is enhanced by a light dash of foundation; uniform lips glisten with scarlet; the smooth planes of her cheeks are dusted with rose; the contours of cat-like eyes are extended with eyeliner; amber eyes are accentuated by the stretch of lavender above them. She's sporting a simple crimson dress that ends just below her knees–form-fitting, with thin straps and a v-cut to draw attention to the dip of her collarbone and the curve of her shoulders. Ruby _Jimmy Choo_ heels complete the ensemble.

A golden charm fashioned into a three-pointed flame sprouting from a spiral lies at the base of Azula's necklace, and she's wearing matching earrings. It's the family insignia. Zuko has an identical symbol pinned to his blazer.

Ozai and Azula wear it with pride; Ursa and Zuko wear it in compliance.

"Yeah, whatever. Go play with your consort, Prince Charming."

* * *

Azula is enjoying herself immensely.

She had spoken to almost all the important party guests and schmoozed most of them in her father's favor for the elections in November. In fact, she may have even scored a few sponsors for herself.

If only teenagers were this easy.

When it comes to negotiations, networking, and all things corporate, Azula is in her comfort zone. Politicians are her minions–her thread; she weaves her own designs, her own embroidery on the greater tapestry. Her own peers, on the other hand, string her like a yoyo; she's the ball of yarn, and they're the feline.

It's in the midst of discussing a legislation prohibiting homosexual unions in the state that she notices a member of the feline family on the chesterfield. Azula smirks; a bitter Zuko has his arm wrapped around Mai possessively.

She excuses herself to go repay her brother for the past week.

Azula's smirk fades when she realizes that Zuko and Mai aren't alone.

An incredibly petite girl in a jade-white sheath dress is sitting next to Zuko. There's a considerable amount of space between her and the couple; her arms are crossed over her chest, and her porcelain face is twisted in a grimace. Misty celadon eyes convey her mortification. Raven hair is held up by a floral hairband, with stray bangs framing her face.

"Mai, I apologize on my brother's behalf," Azula greets as she approaches the trio.

Zuko's dour demeanor brightens upon catching sight of his sister.

Azula notes this with a grain of salt.

Mai sighs. "What are you talking about, Azula? Zuko's the _best _company at a party," she drawls cynically.

Azula ignores the affronted look on her brother's face and nods at the stranger. "Who's this? I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting your little friend, Zuzu."

The girl arches a thin eyebrow at this but says nothing.

"This is Toph Beifong. She's a freshman from school."

Azula's eyebrows shoot up at this.

"The mayor's daughter?" She extends her hand. "Pleasure. I'm Azula, Zuko's sister."

"Nice to meet you," Toph replies airily.

To Azula's disappointment, Toph doesn't even make an effort to shake her hand. She continues staring blankly at a spot just beside Azula's ear.

_Rejected by a potential ally? Well. This is a disconcerting first._

Zuko, who takes no notice, continues, "She's also the vice president of the Ho–,"

Mai clears her throat with a meaningful glance at Toph's father.

"–Um, the…Holy…Christian Club," Zuko amends lamely.

Azula raises an eyebrow.

"I see. I didn't realize the 'Holy Christian Club' allowed female members."

"The club and the team are co-ed," Zuko cries defensively. "I mean, uh, the debate team, that is," he amends when Toph frowns.

"And I'd be captain of the 'debate team' too, if I could see a damn thing," Toph growls.

Azula blinks.

Oh._ Well, _this_ is interesting._

"Oh. I, um…I'm sorry to hear that." She isn't really–she's more relieved that her reputation is still in-tact.

_I haven't lost my touch after all._

"I didn't know we had a division for…ah…disabled people at school." Seeing no further purpose–or delight–present, Azula begins to edge away from the chesterfield. "Well, I'd love to stick around and chat but–,"

"Hey, have you seen Dad recently?" Zuko interrupts.

Azula stops to eye her brother warily, suspicious of the sudden interest in their father's whereabouts. There's a gleeful glint in his eyes.

"No, I haven't," she answers cautiously. She glances around the crowded drawing room in a lazy attempt to humor Zuko. "In fact, I haven't seen him since–"

Her half-hearted search is met with startling, if not horrifying results.

Azula's stomach drops to the bottom of her _Jimmy Choo_'s.

Across from her father, under Councilman Jiang's arm, is the stupid shop assistant in a stupid pink sundress.

* * *

"You _knew!_"

Zuko grins like a child who had learned that Christmas was coming early. "Of course I knew. I've known since I saw her at her mall. How else would I know that she went to our school?"

Azula shakes her head in disbelief as she crumples beside Toph.

"I don't understand," she mumbles, her fingers trembling against her temples. "I've met his daughters before. Why didn't I recognize her…?"

Zuko, who's enjoying himself far too much for Azula's liking, replies, "In case you don't remember, they all look exactly the same."

"Like a bunch of mimes, if you ask me," Mai interjects quietly.

Azula groans and buries her face in her hands.

_How did I _not _see this coming?_

Toph inquires, "Is your sister okay? I'm sensing a lot less sass over here."

Azula is still recovering from the first blow when her mother materializes with a flourish.

"Azula, there you are!"

"_Ugh. _Not now, Mother–"

"–Oh, don't be such a grump," Ursa chides. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"_Who?_ I've already spoken to the representatives, and the Mayor, and the–"

"–Not one of _them, _dear. You need to stop playing your father's game and spend more time with people your age."

Azula's fingers freeze.

_Oh no._

"Come along," Ursa continues, oblivious to her daughter's distress. She hooks Azula's arm with hers and begins steering her towards the figures standing opposite of Ozai. "You met her when you were much younger, but I don't think you remember."

_No, no, no_–

"She's one of Governor Jiang's daughters–the youngest. I believe she's around your age."

_No, no, no, no_–

"It'll be nice for you two to–"

"–Mother, I'm feeling ill, I think I'd rather–"

"–Don't be silly, Azula. Ty Lee is a nice girl, there's nothing to be afraid of," Ursa beams as they arrive at Ozai's side.

_Well, I suppose Zuko has won. Meathead._

Ozai glances at his wife and daughter coldly.

"Do you need something, dear? I'm in the middle of discussing the _election_ with Councilman Jiang," he mutters with a hint of impatience.

"Actually, I wanted to acquaint our daughters," Ursa responds cheerfully, though there's a discernible note of steel in her voice.

Ozai's gaze changes as he processes this. He glances between Azula and the councilman's daughter before smiling callously.

"Yes," he murmurs, the edge in his voice softening, "yes, I do believe that would be…beneficial." He clears his throat as he turns back to the patiently smiling councilman. "Ty Jin, I do believe you've met my daughter, Azula?"

The councilman's eyes sparkle, and Azula notes absently that they're the same stupid taupe as his daughter's.

"Ah, yes, Azula! You've grown so much since I've last seen you," he cries as Azula forces a smile. _Bloody faker. _"Do you remember Ty Lee? You two got along famously when you were younger."

_Yes, I can totally distinguish her from Mei Lee, and An Lee, and Fei Lee, and Jin Lee, and_–

Ty Lee, who had been gawking at Azula with stupidly huge eyes, lets out a shriek and points directly at her.

"_You're _the _Senator's daughter?_" Ty Lee squeaks, making no attempt to hide her disdain or disbelief.

Azula isn't surprised that the halfwit doesn't recognize her–rather, she's dumbfounded by the other girl's behavior. Her shock is intensified when none of the adults make any move to correct her. In fact, Councilman Jiang's smile doesn't so much as waver at his daughter's blatant lack of formality–or her poor etiquette–or her awkward posture.

Azula can't even picture herself behaving in the same manner–at least, not without some scenario of her father punishing her subsequently.

She peeks at Ozai, who doesn't seem bothered by Ty Lee's conduct in the slightest.

_Maybe he already signed her off as insignificant? _

Azula clears her throat.

"I believe we've met before," she replies coolly, eyeing Ty Lee with distaste. "Well, it was nice to be reacquainted with–"

"–Why don't you take Ty Lee up to your room, dear?" Ursa suggests, easily seeing through her daughter's ploy. "I'm sure it'd be nice for you two girls to get away from all these adults and just talk."

Azula gapes at her mother in horror, before looking to her father for help.

She finds none.

"That sounds like a good idea." Ozai's eyes gleam implicitly.

Azula catches on immediately, but doesn't share her father's enthusiasm.

_I doubt there's anything I could possibly extract from her…Besides boys and clothes._

"Run along, now."

She recognizes the dismissal (and trap), and turns back to the gawping girl.

"Err, yes. Ty Lee, why don't you accompany me to my quarters?" Azula offers through gritted teeth.

It's Ty Lee's turn to gaze beseechingly at her father. She's met with similar results as the councilman nods in encouragement.

"Sure, why not?" she mutters resignedly.

Azula flinches at the incessant informality before gesturing half-heartedly for Ty Lee to follow.

They maneuver through the swirling, gossiping mass of politicians gradually. Azula takes a moment to glare at Zuko (who waves back cheerfully).

Neither girl makes an attempt at conversation. Azula finds that she doesn't mind the silence as much if it means the absence of Ty Lee's revoltingly childlike voice.

She steals a glance at said girl as they ascend the stairs.

Ty Lee's girlish bangs are pulled back into an elegant French braid, drawing attention to her face. Her usually round and childish features are dusted with the barest hint of makeup, so that all the points are highlighted and the angles are accentuated. In fact, with such thickly painted eyelashes, Ty Lee's seal-like eyes almost look mature, and strangely feminine as she glances up at Azula from underneath them.

"What are you staring at?" she demands self-consciously as Azula averts her gaze.

"Your dress is hardly formal enough for the occasion," she comments, rounding the corner at the end of the stairs sharply.

It's a flowery pink dress with that hugs Ty Lee's narrow waist. Too simple, and too colorful.

Ty Lee stumbles to keep up.

"Well, _I'm sorry!_ If I had known it was _your_ party I would've asked you about the dress code at school," she retorts with a roll of her eyes. "I wouldn't have even come if I had known you were going to be here..." she adds bitterly.

"Don't worry, I didn't know you were invited," Azula hisses back.

She stops promptly at her bedroom door. Despite Ty Lee's best efforts, Azula doesn't fail to notice the way her lips part slightly at the sight of the mahogany double doors.

"Is that gaping I see?"

Ty Lee glowers at Azula, but the tips of her ears match her dress.

"You just have really big doors," she grumbles.

Azula smirks.

"Wait until you see my room."

And, as predicted, Ty Lee's resistance crumbles.

Azula's room is infinitely spacious despite being embellished with furniture. A crimson four-poster bed is centered against the wall opposite the entrance; an ebony desk is in the far left-hand corner; fully-stocked bookshelves line the left wall; a white vanity is in the near right-hand corner; another pair of double doors beside the vanity lead to a walk-in closet; a white couch rests by the right wall; a massive white rug lies at the center of the room while a slighter one lies in front of the couch. There are two large, four-panel windows on either side of Azula's bed, and a series of picture windows along the right wall, overlooking the courtyard. The floors are Brazilian cherry; the ceiling is decked with recessed lighting; the walls are lavished with a white gypsum plaster finish.

Azula can't decide whether Ty Lee had been more surprised to see her or her room.

"No need to be so impressed," she snickers as she saunters towards the couch.

Ty Lee's mouth shuts immediately. Her slender hands clench into fists. "I am _not _'so impressed,' and my room is every bit as fancy as yours!"

Azula is curled on the couch like a lynx. She inspects her manicure. "Yes, yes, I'm sure." Her eyes glint roguishly as she returns her gaze to Ty Lee. "Of course, I'm sure with six sisters, there are some…ah…compromises."

"MY FAMILY DOESN'T HAVE TO COMPROMISE ANYTHING! WE ARE PERFECTLY WELL OFF!" Ty Lee bellows.

Azula winces. "Lower your volume a tad, dear. Inside voices."

She pauses to examine the other girl. Ty Lee's chest is heaving, and her face is blotted an angry red.

_I suppose I've tormented the poor girl enough. _

"Speaking of which," Azula continues smoothly, "why would a _councilman_'s daughter need a part-time job?"

Truthfully, she's curious.

Ty Lee has composed herself at this point, though hints of a scowl linger around her upturned mouth.

"I don't want to have to rely on my parents for my own expenses. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and I don't want to use my dad's money as an excuse for anything," she elaborates in a restrained voice. "Besides, it looks good on a college app."

Azula's eyebrows inch towards her hairline.

That isn't what she expected at all. In fact, the answer is more than sufficient, and she gazes at Ty Lee with renewed reverence.

_I guess she isn't as much of an airhead as I thought she was._

"I see. Forgive me for my previous assumptions," Azula murmurs without meeting Ty Lee's eyes. When the other girl doesn't say anything, she presses on, "That's not a bad idea, though. I should look into finding employment or an internship…"

"Oh, _please_." Startled, Azula glimpses at the other girl. To her relief, Ty Lee's expression isn't unfriendly. "Like _you _need any more qualifications, princess." The girl makes her way to the couch carefully. "What, being a board member of half a dozen clubs, the captain of _two _teams, and being first in the class ranking isn't enough for you?"

Azula cocks an eyebrow.

"How did you know all of that?"

Ty Lee flashes a guarded smile.

"Your mom is really proud of you, you know."

Azula's cheeks flush as she lowers her gaze. "Oh…" After a moment of silence, she adds, "You can sit down, by the way."

Ty Lee obliges almost instantaneously, and her face erupts into an incandescent smile. "Oh my god, this is amazing," she groans as the couch sinks to accommodate her weight.

To Azula's disbelief, Ty Lee wiggles around in her seat to experiment with the viscoelastic foam.

Azula clears her throat awkwardly. "So, err, speaking of college applications, which school are you planning on attending?"

It's a feeble attempt at civility. She resolves that, even if she can't grant her father's wishes, she can at least try to grant her mother's.

Ty Lee stops wiggling. "Wherever I can get in," she replies brightly.

It's all Azula can do to keep from staring.

The mere prospect of such capriciousness when it comes to one's future astonishes her.

_What would Father say?_

She can't imagine not having a carefully selected list of colleges in order of priority, or not having a designated group of contacts for said colleges, or, or, or–

"Err, all right then. Have you decided what you want to major in?"

Ty Lee nods, bobbing with the motion. All pretense of formality or caution is nonexistent at this point.

"I'm going to double-major," she answers effervescently, and Azula notes that Ty Lee's behavior isn't dissimilar to an agitated soda can, "in Dance and Theatre Arts."

This time Azula stares unabashedly.

"_What?_" she yelps. She leaps to her feet. "How can you major in _Dance _and _Theatre_? Why not Political Science, or Economics, or International Relations, or Government, or–," Azula is frenzied at this point, waving her arms haphazardly like a primate, "–or, or–"

"–Or what?"

Azula drops her arms and falls back on the couch. She gazes down at her trembling hands.

Ty Lee is staring at her expectantly.

"I don't understand…" Azula mumbles almost inaudibly. "How can you pursue something like _that_? Your parents just…let you?"

The concept is foreign to her. The concept of liberty, of individuality.

A slave has no options if he doesn't know them; an animal can't desire what it doesn't know.

Ty Lee gazes at Azula for a long time.

The pity makes Azula's insides shrivel. She looks away.

"You know, I'm starting to think that the way you turned out isn't your fault," Ty Lee murmurs gently. She hesitates for a moment before scooting closer, so that their legs are a foot apart. "Your mom told me that you don't have a lot of friends–especially ones your age. She said that you have a hard time trying to fit in and be…well…normal. You were like that as a kid, too, you know. I remember you wanting to play such weird games–like _Risk_, when we were _five._" Ty Lee inhales deeply before exhaling with an exuberant grin. "So I've decided to forgive you. For the way you treated me at the mall, I mean. I know you don't really know how to approach people, and I guess you just thought that was the right way. Well, don't worry–no hard feelings here."

Azula glances at the other girl in bewilderment.

"What are you talking about? I didn't apologize," she rejoins haughtily.

The interval between the grin and the scowl is almost non-existent.

"I'm sorry, _what?_"

"In fact," Azula continues as though Ty Lee hadn't spoken, "I don't even feel sorry."

Ty Lee is on her feet in an instant.

"You don't even feel _sorry?_" She throws her hands down in exasperation. "I don't believe you!" she hollers. Her taupe eyes are ablaze, and she's frowning so forcefully that the muscles around her eyebrows are twitching. "You are the meanest, most stuck-up, snobbish girl in the world!"

_Oh look. I've made her all red and angry, again._

"_Ugh!_ I don't even know why I tried! Sokka was right!" Ty Lee cries as she storms out of the room.

_Soccer? Well, it's only fitting, I suppose. Speaking of Zuko and his simpletons, I think I've made good on my promise. I win, _Azula notes as she watches the braid whip around the corner in amusement.


	3. Achilles' Heel

"I can't tomorrow."

"And why not?"

"I have cheer practice–"

"–Right, because waving pom-poms around is _so _much more important than your grades–"

"–and then I have work."

"Lovely."

"What about Thursday?"

"Absolutely not. I have to supervise Kung Fu tryouts and I will _not _have imbeciles like Chan and Ruon-Jian slink onto the team again."

"Friday?"

"Student council meeting and a track meet. Won't be free until nine."

"Ugh. We can't meet back-to-back on the weekend and still have time to write the paper…"

"I wouldn't be able to stomach your company, anyway."

"Right. 'Cause I am just _so _pumped to spend two days of every week with you, princess."

"I could get used to you calling me that, peasant."

"YOU ARE SO–"

"All right, all right, calm down," Azula sighs, raising her hand in a lazy attempt to ward off Ty Lee.

The two girls linger in the hallway. It's five past three; save for them, the corridor is deserted.

_At this rate, I'll be late to practice! As though today isn't dreadful enough already…Just as things were beginning to go my way, again._

For the most part, October had restored order in Azula's life.

Classes are no longer as insufferable, though Azula adamantly refuses to interact with her peers–lest it benefit her. And, with patience and perseverance, she had reassumed superiority over Zuko.

Nonetheless, Azula seems to have contracted whatever virus plagues her hapless older brother.

She hadn't noticed during the first few weeks of school, but once she recognizes the braid not three seats away, world history becomes her least favorite subject. They don't even speak to one another, but she finds it difficult to ignore the teacher with Ty Lee raising her hand at every opportunity.

_She just loves to hear herself talk._

Mornings are filled with incessant chatter and repugnant joviality. To make matters worse, Sokka accompanies Ty Lee to class every morning. Azula has to stomach their flirtatious prattle for exactly ten minutes every day before the bell rings–and then again when the simpleton returns to walk the cheerleader to her next class. Azula wonders if perfect attendance is really worth it.

Fortunately, Zuko is unaware of this predicament, and Azula is willing to bear with it if it means retaining her supremacy. She had turned the tables on her brother at the dinner party, but he knows as well as she does that Ty Lee is something of an Achilles' heel to her.

It's absurd, really.

Azula can outsmart her teachers, conquer her father's political opponents, and dominate the class ranking, yet it takes little more than a paltry cheerleader to stain her immaculate record. The girl mystifies her to no end.

As the child of a prominent political figure, Azula had been trained to conform since birth. Every politician's heir is. Mai doesn't take any risks; Toph leads a double-life, but a well concealed one. Even Zuko, who is more or less the root of Ozai's humiliation, at least attempts to save face.

Ty Lee, on the other hand, dances along the border of societally condemnable on a regular basis. Whatever strictures bind Azula are futile against Ty Lee; she's immune, impervious to the customs and consequences of politics. Azula can't even imagine Ozai allowing her to associate–much less pursue a romantic relationship–with a commoner.

In spite of herself, she's curious.

But not curious enough to appreciate the (unfortunate) event that had transpired earlier that day.

* * *

_"…I'm really disappointed in some of you," Mr. Kunyo frowns._

Tell me about it.

_ "We're not even halfway through the second month of school and several of you are already failing the course." _

_ How?_ We've only covered eight-thousand years. We're not even at the Classical Period yet.

_ "Luckily, Mr. Gyatso has proposed an interesting idea to help bolster everyone's grades. Since there's an even number of students in this class, you'll all be paired off as tutor and tutee." Azula raises her eyebrows. "The students with satisfactory grades will be meeting with students who are struggling at least twice a week. At the end of every week, I expect a ten-page report summarizing the week's lessons. The report will count towards your exam average."_

_ A murmur runs through the class._

Sounds simple enough. I can just write the report. _Azula smirks. _Not that it'll affect me.

_ "I'll also be holding tutor evaluations at the end of every week, to make sure the tutors are actually making an effort." _

_ Collective groans._

Damn it. They'd rat me out in an instant.

_ A hand goes up–Ty Lee's, naturally. Azula instinctively tunes out the question. _

Unless I threatened them…

_ "Partner selection will depend on the correlation of your grades." _

_ Azula's ears perk. _

The best with the worst. In descending order until equilibrium is reached.

_ "Any other questions?"_

Father would never approve of this sort of system…Let the weak perish.

_ "I'll start from the top. Azula Kasai–," _no surprise there,_ "–will be paired with…" The elderly teacher squints at his computer screen before his eyes widen–presumably in alarm. His eyes shift between the screen and–to Azula's immense dismay–Ty Lee. _

_ Her eyes flicker to the cheerleader._

Certainly not. She can't be the _worst_…can she?

_ Mr. Kunyo clears his throat. "Err, good luck with this one." _

_Giggles and jeers. _

No, no, no, not her–

"_Ty Lee Jiang." _

Of course.

_ Azula's mind goes blank. _

_Then, it roars to life_–_whirring with hectic streams of protest. _

I thought Zuko was supposed to be the one with bad luck.

No, no, no–

How _bad_ is her grade for him to react like that?

No, no, no–

This is not supposed to happen to me.

No, no, no–

She'd give me a horrible evaluation even if I gave her an all-expense paid vacation.

No, no, no–

_ It takes Azula a moment to realize that Mr. Kunyo has long since moved down the list of students, and that practically everyone but her has moved on. She steals a glance at the cause of her torment–though, from where she sits, she can only see the side of the cheerleader's face. If Ty Lee is even half as distraught as her, it's only visible in the slight crease of her brow. Her face is a deep shade of amaranth, and she seems to be more concerned about her wounded pride than her current predicament._

* * *

_Why couldn't it have been _anyone_ else? _Azula wonders, peering disdainfully at Ty Lee.

Her disdain is mirrored on the cheerleader's face.

"Do you have anything today?" Ty Lee inquires, still scowling.

"Track, but it's only practice."

"I have practice, too..."

Azula sneers derisively. Ty Lee rolls her eyes. After a few moments, she glances up at the taller girl with a worn expression.

"Why don't we just meet up today after practice, then? I mean, I think we're out of options…"

Azula studies Ty Lee for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "I suppose. Your place or mine?"

At this, Ty Lee suddenly looks uncomfortable. She averts her gaze. Squirming, the slighter girl mumbles, "Yours."

Azula notes the reaction but doesn't acknowledge it aloud. The suppressed curiosity flares, and she convinces herself it's for political benefit.

"Whatever. Come find me after practice."

* * *

_Shit._

Azula stares at the sleek, black Brabus 800 E V12 Cabriolet and, for the first time in her life, wishes it were a ten-year-old Sonata. Somehow, the fact that Ursa forces her children to carpool together in the hopes of fostering a healthy relationship had escaped her.

As though sweaty, aching limbs and the hours of mental toil that lie ahead aren't enough.

Azula scans the vicinity. The parking lot is mostly empty, save for a petite figure in the distance.

Ty Lee had lagged behind in the journey to the car, and is only beginning the trek across the vast plot. Unlike Azula, she hadn't taken the time to change out of her uniform (mostly because Azula lacked the patience to wait). The gaudy red and white pom-poms hanging at her sides compliment the equally gaudy uniform–scarlet, sleeveless, and form-fitting. The chest is emblazoned with a white circle compromised of four elemental symbols–the school insignia.

And unlike Azula, Ty Lee is visibly exhausted.

Vigorous acrobatics had unraveled her braid; wisps of brunette cling to her perspiring forehead. Her cheeks are pink with fatigue, and under the glare of flood lights, her bare midriff glistens. Azula's stomach is seized by a queer sensation as she glances away.

_Okay, Zuko isn't here yet. Maybe I can stuff Ty Lee into the trunk– _

To Azula's horror, her brother's distinct, scratchy tenor carries out over the parking lot. She revolves slowly on the spot to find Zuko and Sokka, both drenched and donning baggy black and red jerseys, and Aang, sporting a dark orange beanie and a beige hoodie, at the opposite end of the plot. The obstreperous trio is making their way to the Mercedes.

_Today is god awful. _

"…the puck was _right _in front of him! I swear to god, if Hahn–," Sokka doesn't finish his sentence. His eyes are wide.

Zuko and Aang follow his gaze. Zuko's head turns in what feels like slow motion; Azula can count the moments in between Sokka's discovery and–

"Ty Lee?"

Ty Lee, who had finally arrived at Azula's side with a huff, glances up at the sound of her name. Taupe twinkles in recognition.

"Zuko!" she beams radiantly.

Azula doesn't miss the very obvious attraction in the cheerleader's gaze. She rolls her eyes. Strangely, a large portion of the female population at school seems to find her fallible brother attractive.

Sokka darts across the parking lot to sweep Ty Lee into a hug. Aang saunters behind with a grin, and Zuko remains rooted to the spot. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes flit between Azula and Ty Lee suspiciously. Azula can see the miniscule clockworks turning in his head. It's taking discernible effort.

_Moron. He still hasn't figured it out._

"It's a long story," Ty Lee replies, laughing as Sokka releases her. "Basically, Azula is my partner for a history project. Well, kind of. She has to tutor me twice a week for the rest of the semester." She waves her hand dismissively. "It's not like I wanted to be with her–," Azula rolls her eyes again, "–but the teacher didn't really let us pick, so…"

But Zuko had clearly stopped listening.

His eyes are sparkling as he peers at his sister. There's a moment of acknowledgement between the siblings: Azula's reserves are gone. The edges of Zuko's lips are twitching with the threat of a smirk.

_Damn it, I thought I had squashed that out of him. _Azula laments in the loss of her short-lived supremacy. _And now Zuzu has regained a foothold in my empire. _

"So you're coming with us?" Sokka inquires shrilly, not bothering to conceal his delight.

"Apparently," Ty Lee giggles.

Zuko is openly grinning at this point. "Well, we'd _love _to have you." Azula glowers at her brother as he moves to unlock the car. Zuko pointedly avoids his sister's gaze. "In fact, whenever you need a ride to our house, don't _hesitate _to ask." A fleeting glance, and he's rewarded richly with a glare.

_I'm going to set his duffel bag on fire. I'm going to melt his third place trophies into a giant bronze penis. I am going to burn him to the ground._

"Wait. Zuko, your car only has four seats," Aang points out.

Azula curses herself for somehow forgetting this, too.

The throng turns to stare at the four scarlet leather seats, as though doing this will cause a fifth to appear. Then, for the first time in Azula's life, Zuko's face lights up with an idea.

"Ty Lee," he begins, turning to the cheerleader with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "since you're the lightest, you'll have to sit in someone's lap."

And for the first time since she's met the simpleton, Azula is grateful for Sokka's zeal.

"She can sit in mine!" he cries before Zuko can execute his sinister ploy.

Zuko's face falls. Azula smirks at her brother as she hops into the backseat.

However, her smugness doesn't last, as she finds herself victim to Zuko's poor driving and Ty Lee's flailing limbs. Secured only by Sokka's scrawny arms, Ty Lee's limbs collide with Azula's ribcage and shoulder (and the side of her face, on one occasion) at every turn. To make matters worse, Azula has to stomach Sokka and Ty Lee's flirtatious prattle for a full thirty minutes.

_ This day just keeps getting better and better._

* * *

_I spoke too soon._

Tutoring had resulted in little more than Ty Lee texting her friends and Azula finishing her own homework, each sitting on opposite ends of the couch. To be fair, Ty Lee _had_ made a (feeble) attempt to absorb the material, but after Azula's barrage of insults at her "flagrant incompetence," she had retreated to the succor of her fellow cheerleaders.

And now the two girls are seated at the dinner table, with Sokka, Aang, and the rest of the Kasai family. Ursa had been so overjoyed by the fact that Azula had "brought a friend home" that Ty Lee had been persuaded (coerced, more or less) to stay for supper.

Ozai is sitting at the head of the mahogany long table, with Zuko on his left (followed by Aang and Sokka), and Ursa on his right. To the girls' mutual dismay, Ursa had insisted that they sit beside each other, and now Azula is stuck between her mother and Ty Lee. Sokka is conveniently sitting across from Ty Lee, but even he acknowledges Ozai's authority and feigns formality.

"So…" Ozai swishes his wine glass, eyeing the Inuit boy distastefully. "Soccer, is it?"

Azula barely restraints a snicker; Ursa sets her fork down with a frown; Ty Lee and Aang exchange glances; Zuko goes rigid; Sokka blanches. But no one protests.

_Funny. One man's presence is so great that it commands the conformity of so many others. _

"Um, it's actually _Sokka, _sir," Sokka corrects feebly.

He's visibly trembling. Azula decides that dinner isn't quite as terrible as she thought it was.

_Zuzu has really outdone himself this time. Bringing a commoner to dinner–brilliant. _

Ozai's lip curls. Evidently perturbed at being addressed by a proletarian, he turns his attention to Aang instead. The boy shrinks in his seat, and the air is struck with an invisible, inexplicable tension.

The senator's eyebrow is poised with curiosity. "You're of Tibetan descent, if I'm not mistaken?" Aang nods, too terrified to speak. Ozai flashes something like a smile. "Zuko tells me you've done a lot of volunteer work internationally, and that you've met the Dalai Lama?"

The freshman gulps. "H-He's actually my uncle. On my dad's side. Or my mom's. I'm an orphan and I live with a foster family, so I wouldn't know. I call him Monk Gyatso, though–"

"Fascinating," Ozai interrupts Aang's mindless rambling. "It's an honor to have dinner with such an esteemed young man."

The words possess no malice, and somehow, that's all the more frightening. Aang offers a nervous grin. Ozai regards Aang over the rim of his glass pensively before turning his gaze on his son. Zuko's grip on his fork tightens.

"Yes, such discipline and achievement from such a young boy," Ozai continues airily. There's unmistakable malice in his voice now. "I'd implore you to educate my eldest–," his eyes gleam, "–if only he were capable of learning."

For a moment, nobody speaks. Azula struggles to stifle her laughter. Ursa's forehead is creased, but like the petrified guests, she says nothing. Zuko's knuckles are white; the fork is starting to bend in his grasp. He isn't looking at Ozai, but the intensity of his gaze almost matches that of his father's. The friction between the senator and his son is almost tangible.

_This is precious._

Finally, it's Sokka that breaks the tension.

He clears his throat bravely. "So, uh, which fork is the salad fork?"

_And there goes the only fun I've had all day._

Uneasy giggles. Azula sighs. The butler rushes forward to replace Zuko's fork in the midst of the forced joviality. Even after the laughter subsides, it continues to echo through the vast dining room, the Brazilian cherry floors only serving to amplify the sound.

It's almost eerie.

And Ozai's expression matches. The chandelier casts daunting shadows on his face.

While the lame diversion had succeeded in averting his attention, the politician looks further incensed, if possible.

"Speaking of salad, I think it's time for the next course," he purrs, lips caressing the words.

Dinner progresses dully after that, to Azula's disappointment.

She pokes at her vegetables, lost between her parents' discussion of utility bills and the teenagers' conversation about everything and nothing. It's strange, how she can feel alone in a room full of people.

She steals a glance at Ty Lee, who's babbling about something with her wide mouth and ever flailing limbs. Azula is stupefied by the girl's ability to hold such an irrelevant conversation, but more so by her ability to socialize with peers so easily. Here she is engaging a group of boys she hardly interacts with, when Azula, who eats lunch with them every day, can't conceive a single discussion topic. Even Zuko looks interested in whatever Ty Lee's rambling on about. Azula is almost impressed. If she didn't know any better, she'd have suspected the unsettling sensation in her chest to be envy. But Azula doesn't know envy. Why would she envy a stupid shop assistant with stupidly big eyes and a stupid, childlike voice?

She feels even lonelier.

"…and she was like, 'Don't you notice anything different?' And he was like, 'Did you shave your eyebrows?' I mean, can you _believe _he would–"

"–_I _can't believe you're talking about this," Azula interjects acridly.

Ty Lee pauses. Sokka and Aang's grins start to fade. Zuko's eyebrows knit together.

"That was unnecessary," he frowns.

Azula shrugs. "What? I'm just saying that I don't understand how someone could talk about something _so_ _stupid_–"

"_Azula_," Zuko admonishes in his big brother voice. He looks exasperated, and drained beyond belief. "Just leave her alone–"

"–No, Zuko. I want to hear what she has to say," Ty Lee interrupts. Her face is neutral, but an arched eyebrow betrays her.

Azula scoffs. "I find it terribly amusing that you think gossiping about your peers will benefit you in some way."

"I don't think she's trying to benefit–," Aang begins gently, but Ty Lee cuts him off.

"_What_ is your problem? What do you have against me?" Her voice is beginning to escalate, and it sounds a lot less childish.

Ursa and Ozai glance over. The butler stops refilling Ozai's wine.

"I'm sure it's nothing personal, Azula hates everyone," Sokka reasons, but Azula's sneer effectively kills his argument.

"Where do I begin? Your ridiculous conduct? Your lack of wit? Or maybe–"

"–Or _maybe, _you're just jealous." When Azula jeers, Ty Lee continues heatedly, "No, you're _definitely _jealous." She stabs a finger in Azula's face. "You just can't stand the fact that I'm more popular than you are. You can't stand the fact that, as perfect as you are, you have zero social skills. You have no friends of your own, and you try to surround yourself with your brother's friends to pretend you do." She leans closer and hisses, "You _wish _you had as many friends as I do."

Zuko is halfway out of his chair at this point, prepared to spring in case Azula decides to spontaneously charge at Ty Lee. Sokka looks half excited and half afraid. Aang has sunken so low in his seat that only his eyes are visible. Ursa looks mortified.

But the wild, ineffable reaction everybody is anticipating never comes.

Azula blinks.

She had grown very still since the outburst. Still blinking, she slowly turns away from Ty Lee.

Said girl seems to remember her place and quickly leans back. She lowers her gaze bashfully before peeking at the head of the house. Everyone is wondering the same thing: Why hadn't Ozai interfered?

Why hadn't he stepped up to defend his prized possession? Why hadn't he told Ty Lee off for speaking down to his daughter in his own house?

Ozai offers no answers. His face is unyielding, but his eyes hold a hint of interest.

Tilting his head and swishing his wine, the senator murmurs mildly, "I think an apology is due, Miss Jiang."

Ty Lee flushes. Bowing her head, she mumbles an unintelligible apology directed at the dining table.

Azula doesn't react.

Even as everybody else begins to recover from the commotion, and Ozai subtly interrogates Ty Lee about her father and his motives, Azula remains silent.

Ty Lee's remark had struck a chord within Azula. The words had ventured into some unfrequented, forsaken region of her that she had yet to come to terms with herself.

Achilles' heel had suffered a dreadful blow.


End file.
